


Never There

by rashaka



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 04:44:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2800025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rashaka/pseuds/rashaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He didn’t like this dream. He’d never known how to handle this dream.  [a little moment in the midst of 2x08, "Spacewalker"]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never There

He’d dreamed of this.

It’s always seemed when people claim they imagined a scenario, that they’re talking about some abstract moment, some  _what would I do if_ , but he had dreamed this exact moment (this precise feeling) so many times that when Finn stumbled into the drop ship with Clarke’s body, Bellamy actually tried to wake himself up.

He didn’t like this dream. He’d never known how to handle this dream.

Bellamy was a vivid dreamer, with aa mind that hared off in a thousand directions once his head touched a pillow. Losing Octavia was nightmare #1, the prime terror of his waking days and tossing nights. Soon other people slipped in to carve their niches: Miller, Raven, Jasper, Monroe, even Finn. He dreamed of their deaths by acid, gunshot, or Grounder violence. He dreamed of his mother vanishing to oblivion, and of the deaths culled from the Ark.

He dreamed of waiting to meet with Clarke at the camp, only what came back wasn’t his friend—what came back was a body.

This was Bellamy’s greatest fear for Clarke, because she’d always plant herself between the enemy and the goal. On the bad nights—the nights he flung himself to wakefulness with chest heaving and heart hammering—he’s not there to prevent it. She’s out there, in the forest or the mountain without him, when the worst happens. His hands are empty; he can do nothing.

Clarke lives, breathes, and dies out of his reach.

When Finn pushed past the tarps at the mouth of the drop ship, Bellamy’s guts seized at sight of the body. Every nightmare returned to slam against his heart.

_Weren’t there. Weren’t there._

_You. weren’t. there._

For a flash of a moment, she died in life as she had died in his dreams a hundred times before.

"Clarke..."

Then the world flipped, and just like that: she wasn’t dead. She was injured but alive, prone on the metal floor with blood in her hair. Someone called for bandages; maybe it was his own voice that cracked on the words—“a rag, anything”—but the world was upright once more. Clarke was alive, this nightmare staved off for another round.

Bellamy reached down; her hair was matted with twigs and dried flecks of red.

The dream was gone, the world around him was real.

 “Clarke.”  He whispered it again—just to be sure. 


End file.
